


Contagion

by siluria



Category: Doom (2005), Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-14
Updated: 2011-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the intoabar challenge. John "Reaper" Grimm walks into a bar and meets... Nathan Jackson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contagion

**Author's Note:**

> AU for Magnificent Seven, set post Doom Movie and (most probably) AU from that point. Major character death mentioned (Doom).

  
_This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper. - T.S. Eliot_   


 

When the first strains of the virus were identified and isolated, Reaper had been two days away from leave. Two days away from that mission to Olduvai. He hadn’t paid much attention to the news reports, there was always some new mutation of the flu virus flying around, more often than not derived from livestock. There had always been deaths, always been scaremongering and panic. By the time he’d stopped worrying about the effects of the mission on Olduvai and whether he’d be greeted by a nightmare every time he looked in a mirror, the virus had spread beyond the weak and infirm to all walks of life.

When it became clear that money and power couldn’t buy you immunity, the World began to shut its doors on everyone. World leaders began to topple, their replacements more often than not succumbing to the same fate. Businesses were abandoned, towns and cities died amidst the paranoid violence of a scared people. There were no doors opening to someone in need, and a bullet became the only way to start and end a conversation.

Reaper had kept Sam safe and alive for five years before he finally failed her. By the time he’d managed to find a place in isolation that he could still see some beauty in to lay her to rest, he’d started to feel the heat burn through his skin and his limbs weakening. He hoped that this was something C24 couldn’t fix.

***

The problem with two thirds of the population dying, and the rest scared of saying hello without their finger on a trigger, was that the World as John knew it no longer existed. Survival wasn’t an issue when you’d been trained to survive in hostile lands and off whatever you could find. Keeping your head on your shoulders was also relatively easy when you had a good proportion of UAC’s arsenal in the trunk of your car with the skills to use it. Not to mention the ability to heal from almost any wound. Towns that still existed with what resembled a community were beyond rare, and John had nearly passed by what once was Four Corners, thinking there would be nothing left within its boundaries except decay. If it hadn’t been for the rise of smoke and the vast array of lights glowing softly in the dark then he would have kept going until morning.

He left his car on the outskirts of the town, making sure the revolver sat in the holster against his thigh was fully loaded. He pushed himself out of the car, wiping the sweat from his brow that he still couldn’t shake off. It had been four weeks since Sam died. Two weeks since he’d finally started to feel anything close to being human again, which John knew was ironic. The virus killed within three days. Even with C24 he was struggling to fight it off, but each day was an improvement. Part of him knew that walking into a populated town looking sick was a risk, it was one he’d survive, but four weeks of being alone and feeling like shit had left him craving some old comforts that those glowing lights might provide.

Four Corners was less of a town and more of a single main street with a row or two of buildings running parallel to it. The brightest light in the street seemed to come from what had been a bar, and as John neared it, he realized it still served as its original purpose, and as a meeting place. He glanced down the street before he gave into temptation and crossed over the road. As his hand rested on the door handle the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. In the gloom his keen sight picked out the silhouette on the roof of the townhouse across the street, his eyesight sharpening until he could see the sniper’s rifle, its barrel pointed at his head.

He gave a sloppy salute towards the gunman, hiding his smile when the gun barrel dipped momentarily before training on him once more. He turned his back, hoping that the gesture was enough to stay the man’s trigger finger, and opened the door.

The chatter of various conversations died down as they became aware of the newcomer in their midst. John paused just inside the door as his eyes adjusted to the light, giving him the opportunity to work out where the threats lay, and where the escape routes were. His eyes paused at a table where four men sat. They were dangerous, that he could tell with one glance as he catalogued the weapons on display, and the way they sat so they could keep a watch on the whole room. When John’s gaze moved on he saw the various glances the people in the room gave towards that table, knowing that the protection of the town came from those men.

His gaze rested on the woman behind the bar as he walked up to it. She cast a brief glance at the men sat around the table, but John could see her square her shoulders before she walked up to meet him.

“What do you charge for a drink?” His voice cracked from disuse, from the lingering effects of the virus.

Money had long since lost its worth. Currency came down to the things you needed to survive - food, gas, ammo.

“You look like you could do with one, so let’s say it’s on the house.”

Her accent was heavy with a Spanish lilt that he found welcome. He smiled slightly and nodded his thanks. She left him with a shot of rye that he was pretty convinced had never been near a proper distillery before she moved to the far end of the bar. He’d barely swallowed his first sip when he sensed someone come to stand beside him. He licked the bite of the liquor from his lip and gently placed the shot glass back on the bar before turning his head.

One of the men he’d clocked earlier was leaning against the bar, his eyes passing over John’s face, assessing.

“Are you sick?”

His words were hushed, clearly toning his voice so as not to arouse any panic in the people around them. Reaper heard him easily enough. He also appreciated how wary anyone would be when faced with someone who could carry the virus into a place where its effects hadn’t yet reached.

“I have been. It’s not what you think.”

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Not good enough,” there was a southern lilt to the man’s voice, but it didn’t soften the bite in his voice, or the threat that was implied.

John sighed and paused long enough to take another sip of rye. He turned until he was fully facing the man. He could see the table out of the corner of his eye, the men there sat seemingly relaxed but Reaper knew through years of familiarity what someone ready to fight looked like. The man in front of him was young, old eyes sat in a face hardened by experiences but John would guess he was no older than 25, his dark skin lacked the weathering that time gave.

“Just because the virus hit doesn’t mean that the common cold became less common.”

The man smirked. “I know that. I’m a doctor after all.”

His face still demanded an answer. John glanced over at the door when it opened. Two figures entered, one that looked like he hadn’t seen the back of his teens yet, the other still young but the sniper rifle slung over his shoulder told John that he’d been on the roof across the road not so long ago. The man carried himself like military, and he gave his own sloppy salute that Reaper acknowledged with a nod. He watched both men as they made their way over to join the other four men around that table.

As much as he didn’t want to reveal anything of himself, this wasn’t his town. He wasn’t the one trying to keep everyone safe and uninfected. They seemed to have been doing a good job if what he’d seen of the town in the dark was anything to go by. They had something that was worth protecting, he’d have been asking the same questions if he there was anything he had left to preserve.

“I buried my sister four weeks ago.” His voice was still scratchy, and he turned his eyes to stare at the scarred bar top. “Started feeling ill then. I holed up for a week waiting to die but it didn’t happen and I started feeling better so moved on. I’ve been on the road for the last three weeks but there’s nothing between northern California and here except death and destruction.”

When there was no reply, Reaper turned his attention back to the man stood next to him. There was a questioning frown, a flash of interest, and Reaper suddenly had the impression that he was close to becoming a guinea pig. Something he couldn’t be, not with C24 running through his system. He reached out and grabbed the shot glass, downing the rest of the contents in one go before he took a step back.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he took another step away before something made him pause. “Good luck.”

He nodded to the table before he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool night. His pace was quick as he headed back towards his car, but he hadn’t got far when the door to the bar swung open and he heard feet running to catch up.

“Wait!”

He didn’t want to. Wasn’t in anyone’s best interests to stop, but he did. When he turned around the doctor slowed and stopped in front of him. He saw the door to the bar open again and the blond that had sat at the table when he first walked in moved out to lean against the wall, keeping his friend in sight. Reaper remembered what it was like to have someone watching your back.

His eyes moved back to the dark-skinned male.

“You’re the first person I’ve heard of to beat this thing, you could help with finding a cure or a vaccine.”

They were the words of a doctor, someone desperate to cure. “I can’t.”

The man frowned. “Most of the people on the planet are dead, the rest living in fear that their time will come sooner rather than later. And you can’t help?”

His voice held disbelief, and outrage. John shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me!”

John huffed out a sad laugh and shook his head. “All I’m going to say is that if you want to use what flows through my veins then you’re running the risk of letting loose a virus far worse than the one that’s already out there. I can’t let you do that, so don’t make me have to stop you.”

John turned on his heels and walked away, pleased that the man stayed rooted to his spot.

“That doesn’t make sense!”

The shouted words floated back to him through the darkness as he walked down the street. He could hear the frustration, felt it even, but the world didn’t need the type of hell Reaper could bring. He should have resisted temptation and kept on driving. Next time he would. He hoped the man found his cure. Hoped the men watching his back, and that of the town, could preserve a little bit of humanity until there was nothing they needed protection from. John suspected he would be around to see it, he hoped they would be too.


End file.
